twenty-two

Yesterday, I turned twenty-two. Yeah, my birthday is on cinco de mayo. No, there was not a sombrero or taco in sight. Coincidentally, Cinco de Mayo this year was on first Thursday, which means artwalk. I was able to hang my "birthday" series that I did and supply the gallery-goers with the ash ridden cake (from our failed attempt at sparkler candle photography) that Leta de Edmonds Bakery had baked for the shoot. My adoring mother, father, and uncle also brought me a cake with way sicker sparkler candles than the ones I had bought myself and endured me and my drunk friends for about an hour. Oh, what a family.

My ghetto Poquitos review
I know I said I'd start writing about cool shit to do in Seattle, so I'll start. Right here, right now. By the time the artwalk was over, I had definitely cut myself off of camera-wielding privileges, so I have no photographs to back up what I'm about to say about Poquitos on the hill.. I am almost certain that Poquitos was the long lost sexier, more intelligent and mature cousin of Cha Cha Lounge and. Poquitos was essentially a metaphorical Kristofferson Fox, coming out of nowhere and just kicking ass at just about everything. They finally opened up the back indoor patio, which was a spacious, had plenty of places to stand and sit around the perimeter, and a fat chunk of island bar in the very middle. Not to mention the walls are just windows so you have ample opportunity to make faces at the drunk kids walking out of Havana.

Then again, I was drunk. I could have dreamt it all, and it might actually just be a really stupid bar.

*** Special thanks to Leanne and Emil for providing me with enough alcohol for me to not actually be sure if it even existed in the first place... And a big e-smooch to all who made it out and had as much fun as I did last night. Thanks for eating all that cake so I didn't have to deal with it.